


You Can Do Better Than Me But I Won't Do Better Than You

by BlasphemousProphet



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Gallavich, M/M, mickey deserved better, post 5.12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 04:17:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4165503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlasphemousProphet/pseuds/BlasphemousProphet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>title based off some dcfc song I can't remember.<br/>post season 5 angsty poemish shit<br/>Mickey gets to be happy</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can Do Better Than Me But I Won't Do Better Than You

“No.”  
All Mickey has to do is say it one time and you know he doesn’t want you anymore.  
He used to take whatever of you he could get,  
Just like you did with him.  
Patiently waiting for you to get out of (his) bed  
To look back at him. 

“Suck it harder, you faggot!”  
Mickey doesn’t use the f word a lot.  
No, not fuck. He uses that one all the time. It’s his multipurpose word.  
Faggot. He doesn’t like it.  
You know why.  
That’s why you said it to him. 

Finding him in the shower jerking off quietly because he knows you’re not in the mood.  
Sliding into the sweaty bed where you’ve been twisting around because he misses you.  
Visit Carl in juvie but you’re seeing Mickey through the glass.  
Being on crutches in juvie is basically a death sentence, Carl tells you eagerly. I don’t know how Mickey did it.  
You wonder why Carl is talking about Mickey to you (hero worship glinting in his eyes) and you remember that Carl doesn’t know you broke up.  
You don’t know how Mickey did it either. You never even thought about it.

Liam doesn’t play with Yev anymore because you don’t get to play with Yev anymore.  
Because you dumped Mickey.  
Because you kidnapped Yev.  
Because Mickey forgave you.  
And then you watched him get shot at and shrugged.  
“Mickey?” Liam asks anxiously, shaking you on the couch.  
Mickey was nice to Liam, ruffled his hair when no one was looking, tickled him on his stomach like a puppy, because Mickey knew what it was like to grow up without tickling or hair ruffling and no one in the Gallagher house seemed to do much of that anymore.  
“Not here,” you say rustily.  
“Why?”  
You’re quiet for so long you think Liam forgot.  
“I miss Mickey,” he says.  
“Me too, kid.” You reach out to ruffle his hair but he’s already walked away. 

“Come on,” says Lip. “You can do so much better than Mickey Milkovich. There are so many hot guys in college-“  
Shut up, you say furiously.  
Mickey deserves better than you but you can score higher than him.  
You just know how things work, in the gay community.  
You don’t want to but you do.  
Mickey’s cute, a bossy bottom, with big arms and a filthy mouth. You’re not the only one who wanted to fuck him just like he’s not the only one who ever wanted to fuck you. But in the midst of all that you found each other.  
It means something.  
It meant something.  
You wonder what he’s doing now,  
Aside from breaking your heart in your mind. 

Fiona kicked the laundry machine. “He helped me fix this goddamn shitbox once,” she says abruptly.  
“Yeah?”  
“While he was waiting for you.”  
What other things did he do while he waited? You want to ask.  
You know the answer.  
“Not much. He just watched out for you. Beat up Frank and Lip when they got mouthy. Brought Yev over for Liam.”

Debbie gets an abortion. You drive her there and back. Painkillers made her sleepy. You see a text on her phone from an unknown number.  
u good?  
You don’t need to ask her to know that it’s Mickey, that he made the appointment for her, googled the nearest Planned Parenthood for her, is still texting her because he’s Mickey.  
“Some guy asked if you were good,” you say. “Unknown number.”  
“Tell him thanks,” says Debbie quietly.  
Thanks, yeah  
Its ok if you aren’t. give it some fucking time  
You blink but you still can’t see what’s happening on the screen.  
You aren’t doing good. 

“Sooo…Lucy and Ethel break up?” Frank says.  
You ignore him.  
“He was a nice guy,” says Frank. “Better than this shithole. I’m sure he’s making bank somewhere else.”  
“Shut up,” you snap.  
“Good for him,” says Frank vaguely. 

You play detective. You take your meds and you track him down.  
He’s running some kind of construction scam in California. He’s cut all the sleeves off his shirts. He looks happy. He’s kissing some guy softly before putting on a hard hat. The guy is smiling back at him.  
You had plans. You were going to ambush him, show him how healthy you were, surround him because he could never say no to you.  
You go home instead feeling a little lighter.  
Frank was right. Mickey’s okay. He might have loved you once but he doesn’t anymore.  
He’s doing well.  
Living a life without you.  
Out of Chicago without you.  
You always thought you would be the one to leave him behind, selfishly.  
He can do better than you  
But there is nothing better for you than him.  
You go home.  
You go to the dugout.  
It’s just you there alone.  
You sit and remember and give it some fucking time.


End file.
